


Mama's Boy

by thedropoutandthejunkie (elenajames)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, Parent/Child Incest, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6767134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenajames/pseuds/thedropoutandthejunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's haunted by nightmares ever since his father died in a housefire. Mary sees no issue with letting her oldest seek comfort and safety in her bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama's Boy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babybrotherdean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/gifts).



> This is written for SPN Kink Bingo.  
> Square Filled: Bed Sharing.

Dean’s had nightmares on and off ever since John died. The fire had left her little boy with anxiety and fears of losing her and Sam, so it wasn’t unusual for Dean to creep into Mary’s bed when the nightmares kept him from sleep. Of course, a lot of adults would argue that 16 was too old to be seeking the comfort of a parent’s bed from nightmares, but Mary never much cared for what other people had to say. Dean and Sam were her boys, and she’d raise them however she saw fit. 

 

Sixteen means Dean’s hit his growth spurt, getting tall and losing more of his baby fat. He’s pretty with long lashes and green eyes, splashes of cinnamon freckles all over his pale skin. Mary’s seen boys and girls alike looking at her son, and each time fills her with a mix of pride and jealousy. She knows, deep down, that whoever wins Dean’s heart is going to have a difficult time living up to her standards. (Sammy, thankfully, is still too young to be thinking about dating; Mary’s hoping for another year or two before she has to deal with that for him, too.)

 

Sixteen also means that Dean’s waking more and more frequently to demanding erections. More than once, Mary’s watched him stumbling out of her room before he thought she’d be awake, cock tenting his shorts visibly even in the low light of morning. She’s treated the stains on his sheets and clothes, fingers just brushing against the flaky patches. 

 

He wakes her one night, moaning softly and hips gently rolling in his sleep. Curled up on his side, his cock just bumps her hip, damp cotton dragging along the fabric of her nightie until it’s rucked it up so he’s brushing her bare thigh. It only takes a little tug to have his cock poking out of the flap in his boxers, and Mary finds herself watching the thick shape of it in the dark; Dean’s hung like his father, sending a dirty shiver through her that tingles right down to her pussy. 

 

With tentative fingers, Mary grips her son’s cock, feeling precome slick her palm. Dean ruts instinctively into the circle of her fingers, his soft sounds adding to the wetness between her legs as she watches him fuck her hand. He comes quickly, much to her surprise and a part of her has to wonder if her little boy has any experience at all. She tries not to imagine all the things she could teach him. 

 

Dean’s gone in the morning, his mess only partially cleaned up, but she smiles at the attempt he’d made before leaving. Mary doesn’t say a word, sure that he’ll be embarrassed if she does. He’s never come in her bed before, not even when he was younger, so she pretends not to notice the blush in his cheeks when he comes down for breakfast. 

 

It’s another week before she wakes up with a tingle in her belly and a moan in her throat. A few hazy moments pass before she realizes that Dean has his hand in her panties, careful fingers gently stroking over her. One dips in just enough to graze her clit, and Mary can’t hold back the slight buck of her hips and the moan the touch drives up her throat. Dean nearly pulls away then, but she just catches his wrist to stop him. 

 

“It’s okay, baby. You can touch. You’ve never done this before, have you?” And like Mary expected, Dean whispers  _ no _ into the dark. “Okay, sweetheart. You just keep doing what you were doing, nice and easy, okay?” 

 

Mary spreads her legs a little, giving Dean room to slip his hand back down between her thighs. He doesn’t seem to mind the catch of the waistband against his wrist, even though Mary knows it has to be cutting in. His body is warm against her side, and Mary reaches up with one free hand to pet through his hair and down his jawline. Gentle fingers tease and touch, probing carefully as her slick wets them. He pets her curls and slides one finger back between them to brush her clit. The touch is light, a little circular movement just the way she likes. 

 

“Just like that, Dean,” she praises quietly, pulling her fingers down his face until he dips down so their mouths can meet. “That’s my sweet little boy.” The words are half muffled against his lips, but Dean makes a soft sound anyway, hips rocking so his hard cock presses into her side. 

 

“Dean,” Mary coaxes, nudging his hand from between her legs so she can sit up, pushing her panties down and off as she goes. He’s wide-eyed in the dark, half light from the street lamp only just allowing them to make out each other’s features. “Come here.” Laying back down, Mary spreads her thighs and pats one, watching as Dean nervously makes his way over to kneel between them. 

 

She has to draw him down into a kiss, able to hear how fast his breathing has gotten and feel the race of his heartbeat under her hand when she presses it to his chest. Touching seems to rev Dean up and relax him at the same time, some of the tension bleeding out of him even as his heart pounds. 

 

Mary gasps when one hand cups her breast, bare beneath the cotton of her nightie. Dean’s palm is warm and broad, and one thumb sweeps over the peak of her nipple through the fabric. His other hand comes up, shaking slightly as he undoes the buttons holding the top of the nightgown together. They both suck in a breath when he touches her bare breast, fingertip tracing along her stiff nipple and palm pressing against the warm, soft skin. 

 

With a careful hand behind his neck, Mary guides Dean down. His mouth is warm and wet, suckling and licking tentatively. His inexperience is evident - arousing. Mary murmurs words of praise absently, letting him know what she likes best as he teases her with his lips. The barest scrape of teeth makes her hiss, and he nearly apologizes until she breathes out “Again.” Dean nips gently, holding her nipple between his teeth and tugging just a little, moan mixing with hers in the quiet of the room. Mary’s silently grateful that Sammy sleeps like the dead. 

 

Pushing up into the kiss Dean initiates, Mary reaches a hand between him to tug at his boxers, pulling them down and off slim hips and thighs. Dean helps, kicking them off. He’s hard and damp in her palm, and Mary gives a couple of strokes just to feel him. 

 

“You can say no, Dean,” she murmurs, settling back onto the bed. Despite her words, she guides his cockhead to her pussy, holding it just so that’s it’s nudging against her hole. 

 

“Please.” Dean’s voice sounds strained, and she smiles up at him in the dark. Letting go of his cock, she skates her hand up his side. 

 

“Go on, baby.” 

 

Thick, so thick as he sinks into her that it makes her gasp and clutch at his arms. She’s hardly been with anyone since losing John, and the sensation of that first thrust is achingly good. 

 

Dean’s not going to last long, not this first time. He’s shaking, thrusting stutteringly at first. Mary rolls her hips to guide him, petting along his shoulders when he finally catches her pace and pumps evenly in and out, jackrabbit fast like only young men can be. 

 

“Mom,” he chokes, dropping his face to the space between her bare breasts. He trembles as he comes, and Mary can’t help but soothe him even though her body is throbbing, desperate for an orgasm. 

 

“Shh, Dean. It’s okay. Was that good, baby?” He nods weakly against her, brushes a kiss along one breast. 

 

“Love you, Mom.” 

 

“Love you, too, sweetheart.” Mary helps him sit up and pull out. He curls up beside her, one hand tracing idly over her chest and belly. Come and her wet are sticky and thick between her thighs, seeping down to leave a wet spot on the sheets. Feeling the quiver of arousal through her, Mary dips her own fingers down to touch her clit. 

 

“Let me?” Dean asks quietly. His fingers replace hers, but he’s obviously not trying to get her off. Mary allows him to explore, biting back a groan when she realizes he’s quickly getting hard again.

 

Dean takes the initiative this time, rolling on top of her and settling between her thighs. He sinks in with no hesitation, rolling his hips. 

 

“Want to make you feel good, Mom. Show me?” 

 

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Mary rocks her hips up into his thrusts. She tugs his hand back down to her, guides his fingers in faster and firmer strokes until they hit a pace that’s definitely driving her toward orgasm. 

 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” she says breathlessly, dropping her hands to clutch at the sheets. Dean watches her intently, mouth open as he pants, expression almost overwhelmed. 

 

Mary arches as she comes, clapping her own hand over her mouth to muffle the cry that almost breaks free. Dean thrusts doggedly through her orgasm, deep and quick, almost certain to leave an ache that she’ll feel in the morning as he pushes through her tightened muscles. He comes as quietly this time as he did the first, twitching slightly until his body goes lax. 

 

Dean pulls out and drops down beside her, snuggling close as he always does. Mary tugs the sheets up the bed, covering them back up. Dean’s hair smells like sweat, and the room smells like come. She’ll have to air it out tomorrow, just in case. 


End file.
